Page 15 of Secrets of a Kilted Seduction (Temptation in Tartan #6)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

B laine waited until he was alone in his study before locking his door, fetching a lighted lamp in its glass chimney, and approaching the large stone hearth. With the ease of a man who had done the same thing many times before, he went to one side of the mantel and slipped his fingers into a hidden recess behind it. His fingertips went immediately to the peg inside and pressed it. Next to him, a panel of the mahogany wainscoting popped open with a gentle snick, onto a rectangle of darkness beyond.

Like every other castle in the land, Castle MacIver was a rabbit warren of hidden tunnels and passages that had been mostly forgotten and were seldom used. While growing up in the castle, Blaine had made it his business to rediscover some of them. It meant he could leave the castle unseen and roam freely about the countryside, drinking in taverns and carousing with women along with his friends. He could also go unseen more or less anywhere within the castle he wished.

Now, he held the lamp high and stooped to enter the hidden passage, illuminating a narrow, spiraling stone staircase that disappeared into darkness below. He started down it, smiling to himself, amused by the irony of the situation. It was his adoptive father who had first shown him this route through the castle. And such trustingness would prove to be the old laird’s undoing. Thus, as he descended the stairs, Blaine congratulated himself on having made such good use of the secret passage leading to the castle dungeons in his quest to usurp his father.

At the bottom of the hidden staircase, he shouldered his way through a heavy, studded wooden door that screamed like a dying horse as it swung open, emerging into a stone passageway dimly lit by torches. He walked on until he came to another, similar door.

Pausing outside, he pulled out a keyring and selected a large, somewhat rusty key. He unlocked the door, opened it and passed through it, pulling it closed as he went. Immediately the foul stench hit him, and he covered his nose with his hand as he relocked the door and stepped into the main area. Faint rustlings and the drip, drip, drip of water coming from somewhere unknown added to the horror of the place.

His bootsteps rang on the flagstones as he approached one of the cells facing him. He took a key from his coat pocket, unlocked the door, and went inside the tiny cell.

“Good evening, Faither, I trust I find ye in good health today,” he said, his tone insolent as he addressed the gaunt-faced, bearded man sitting hugging his knees on the pile of straw and soiled blankets which evidently served as his bed. His once proud countenance was a picture of misery.

Blaine seemed oblivious to the marks of suffering on the old man’s person as he glanced around the cell and wrinkled his nose. “I’m sorry tae say it, but it daesnae smell too good in here. Ye should take better care of yersel’.”

With some difficulty, the old man pushed himself from the straw bed to a standing position. He tottered unsteadily for a moment, having to lean a hand against the wall for support. He drew himself up, revealing himself to be a tall, impressive figure, overtopping Blaine by at least a foot. Yet the natural authority he bore was undermined by his bedraggled appearance. He was unwashed, unshaven, and looked too thin for his tall frame, as if he had not been adequately fed in some time. His stained clothing was hanging off him.

“Why are ye doin’ this, Son?” he asked in a deep, mournful voice. “What is it ye hope tae gain out of all this?”

“Ye ken, Faither, there are times, like now, yer instance, when I wonder about yer sanity. Have I nae told ye many times why I’m doin’ it? Dae I have tae keep repeatin’ mesel’?” Blaine snapped as petulantly as small child denied its wish.

“But the lairdship is yers. Ye’re me heir. Ye’ll get it all when I’m gone. Ye’ll be head of the clan. There’s nae need fer all this.” He gestured at the mossy, dripping walls. “Let me go, and we’ll talk,” John MacIver offered.

“I’ve naethin’ tae talk about with ye, old man. I’m yer heir, true enough, but I’m nae prepared tae wait until ye drop down dead. That could be years away. I want what’s mine now!”

The laird ran a hand distractedly through his unkempt hair, his grimy face etched with care. “I dinnae understand ye, Blaine. Have I nae brought ye up tae be an honorable man? Yet ye stoop so low as tae lock up yer own faither? Are ye nae ashamed of yersel’?”

Blaine sniggered. “Ashamed? I’m proud of mesel’ fer usin’ me brains, and I’ll be even prouder when I’m the laird.”

John MacIver gave a low growl in his throat. “Ye bring shame on our family, on our clan. ’Tis unnatural, what ye’re doin’. Ye’re mad if ye think ye’ll get away with it.”

“I’ll get away with it all right. That bunch of fools on the council, they dinnae suspect a thing. There’s nae one comin’ tae save ye,” Blaine boasted with a malign grin. He was frankly enjoying tormenting the old man.

“All right, ye’ve been clever, I’ll grant ye that. But this has gone far enough. If ye let me go now, I swear I’ll nae kill ye. I’ll nae let the council kill ye. I can give ye more power if that’s what ye want.”

Baine gave a harsh laugh and sneered at his adoptive father. “Ye’ll give me power, will ye? Ye’re too late, old man. I’ve already taken yer power. Ye’re nae needed any longer. Ye’re surplus tae requirements around here.”

“Blaine, dinnae dae this. Dinnae bring our family name intae disrepute. Where’s yer love and respect fer the man who raised ye as his own son?” the laird demanded to know.

“But I’m nae yer son, am I? Nae by blood.”

“Is that what this is about? That never mattered tae me! Ye’re me son and heir whatever yer blood. Ye ken, lad, I’ll die in here if ye dinnae set me free.”

Blaine shook his head in mock concern. “Ye always said everythin’ would be mine when ye die. So, I’m just speedin’ things up a wee bit. ”

“Ye mean tae make me die in here, is that it?”

Blaine shrugged. “Look, old man, nae one kens where ye are but me. They all think ye’ve been abducted by some enemy or other. And I have tae tell ye, I’ve received nae ransom demand fer ye yet. So, as far as the council’s concerned, ye’re likely already dead. Daes that answer yer question?”

A roar of anger and frustration burst from John MacIver’s lips. “Lord, tell me, how did I take this viper tae me breast? I succored him as I would me own blood. I gave me all tae this,” he broke off and spat on the filthy floor in obvious disgust, “this devil . And in return, he’s gonnae murder me, his own faither.”

“I keep tellin’ ye, but ye dinnae seem tae hear me, ye’re nae me faither!” Blaine snapped irritably. He lunged at the old man and pushed him violently in the chest. With a loud cry, the laird toppled backwards onto the straw, hitting his head on the wall as he sprawled there helplessly.

Blaine watched, smirking, as the man who had raised him struggled to sit up. John groaned and rubbed his head where it had impacted the wall. Blaine smiled to see blood on his father’s bony hand.

“Anyway, now ye ken where ye stand in all this,” he resumed. “And I have some important news fer ye.” The old laird looked up at him, his eyes dazed.

“Aye, yer daughter’s here, in the castle.”

John’s miserable visage suddenly brightened. “She’s here?”

“Aye, and she daesnae have a very high opinion of ye fer abandonin’ her and her maither all those years ago,” Blaine said, gloatingly.

“But I didnae abandon them! Ye ken well I’ve been searchin’ fer them fer years,” John cried.

“I told her that, ye old fool, but I dinnae think she believed me. She thinks ye banished her maither when ye found out she was expectin’ yer child.”

“Oh, Lord, that’s nae what happened at all,” John cried in obvious distress. “I need a chance tae explain things tae her, tae make her understand she was wanted by her faither.”

Blaine ignored this and said bluntly, “Oh, and another thing; yer old mistress died these two years past it seems.”

John gasped; fresh pain etched on his ravaged face. “Ella is dead?”

“That’s what I just said. Are ye deaf?” Blaine retorted irritably.

“Well, that’s a great blow. God bless her soul, may she rest in peace kennin’ that I truly loved her,” John said mournfully. But his look of sadness soon turned to one of eagerness as he asked, “What about me daughter? What about Alana? What’s she like? Is she well?”

“She’s very well. And she’s right bonny too,” Blaine replied. He taunted his father with a lascivious grin as he made an obscene gesture with his hands, sketching a shapely woman’s curves in the air. “In fact, she’s such a beauty, ’tis hard tae believe she’s yer blood, ye ugly old fool.”

“I need tae see, her, tae talk tae her. Let me see her!” the laird begged.

Blaine scoffed. “Now ye ken that’s nae gonnae happen. ’Tis tragic indeed, but

she’s never gonnae meet her faither. But since she’s lived without ye all these years, I dinnae suppose she’ll miss ye too much.”

John’s face creased in fury. “Curse, ye, ye evil, ungrateful wee bastard. When I get out of here, I’ll hang ye mesel’ from the battlements,” he snarled, clenching his fists and throwing himself at Blaine.

But he was weakened by his incarceration, and despite their difference in height, it was easy for Blaine to kick him in the belly and send him sprawling to the floor once more. He lay there, groaning in pain and clutching his midriff. When he could breathe again and dragged himself to a sitting position, he rasped out, “Dinnae hurt her. Swear tae me, ye’ll nae hurt her.”

“I’ll swear naethin’ tae a dead man. Anyway, why would I want tae hurt her, ye old dummart? I’m gonnae marry her,” Blaine told him, pleased to see the shock on his father’s face.

“Marry her?”

“Aye, of course. Who is tae say that if ye ever found yer daughter, that ye would nae change yer mind about me bein’ yer heir if ye were nae locked away in the dungeons? Yer adopted son marries yer illegitimate daughter. What could be more perfect? Her blood will legitimize me new position as laird around here. Ye should be happy. Yer succession is solid. Me sons will rule after me, proudly continuin’ the line of MacIvers intae the future.”

“Ye bastard. Ye intend tae use her tae consolidate yer stolen lairdship?”

“What good is she fer anythin’ else?” Blaine asked scathingly. Then he added ruefully, half to himself, “There’s a small fly in the ointment though.”

“What are ye talkin’ about. What fly?” his father asked, struggling to stand.

“She already has a husband. Or at least they claim tae be wed. I ken they’re lyin’ though.”

John gave a hissing laugh. “So, ye cannae wed her then if she’s already wed tae another man. That’s put an end tae yer evil scheme, eh?”

Blaine looked at him and laughed. “Ye really have lost yer wits, old man. ’Tis a cryin’ shame fer yer lassie that she’s never gonnae meet her faither, and she’s soon tae become a widow too.”

“Ye mean tae kill her husband, is that it, ye fiend? I’m ashamed that the man I raised would stoop so low,” John cried in obvious disgust.

“Of course. Was it nae yersel’ who taught me that when there’s an obstacle in the way, ye remove it, Faither ?”

“I didnae mean cold-blooded murder, ye poisonous snake in the grass,” John shouted.

“Thank ye, comin’ from ye, I take that as a compliment. Anyway, I must leave ye now. I’ve many better things tae be doin’ than stand here gossipin’ with an old fool like ye. Wooin’ Alana fer one.”

He rummaged in his coat pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in oiled paper. He threw it down on the straw. “There’s some scraps in there fer ye. Enjoy yer supper.”

Turning his back on his father, he strode out of the cell, slamming and locking the door behind him. “Goodnight tae ye, Faither. Sleep well,” he called over his shoulder. Enjoying his own wit, he retraced his steps back up the secret staircase to his chambers, pleased with the way his plan was going.

The following morning, after breakfast at the laird’s table, Blaine took Tadhg aside. “I’ve had some news about me faither,” he told him, “I trust ye, Tadhg, and I need yer help.”

“What sort of help?” the big warrior asked, his expression giving nothing away.

“Well, I hear ye work as a scout fer Laird Lennox.”

“Aye, that’s true.”

“I need someone with experience of scoutin’ tae go tae this place where there have been reports of the clan we suspect is holdin’ me faither captive and see the lay of the land. Me faither could be there somewhere.”

“Ye have yer own scouts. Why nae send one of them?” Tadhg asked.

Blaine already had an answer for that. “Aye, and they’re good lads too. But none of them has as much know-how as ye. And if anythin’ happened, I dinnae trust them tae be able tae defend themselves or me faither”

“Fair enough, but what d’ye want me tae dae?”

“Just go there, see the lay of the land, locate me faither if ye can, and report back tae me,” Blaine explained. “I’ll raise a force and we’ll go and get him back.”

Tadhg thought about it for a few moments and then nodded. “All right, I’ll dae it.”

Elated at the way his scheme was going, Blaine grinned happily and clapped Tadhg heartily on the back. “Thank ye, man. I feel better now. I ken I can trust ye tae be discreet and dae a good job, with nay mistakes. Go as soon as ye like, and take whatever ye need, horses, provisions, and the like.”

“Very well. And I’ll report back ate ye on me return.”

The pair parted, and Blaine watched with satisfaction as Tadhg walked away. H was safe in the knowledge that his rival would soon be walking into a carefully arranged trap, and he would not come out alive.

Alana will be heartbroken, I’m sure, losin’ her faither and her husband in one fell swoop. She’s lucky I’ll be by her side tae console her in her time of loss.